Chairs and Tables
by SoraOfSkye
Summary: On the night before Thorin's company embarks upon their quest to reclaim their homeland, young Gimli, Son of Gloin, brings to the king a proposition: let him be the fourteenth member. However, he is quickly faced with disappointment and so he storms off and he does something that he will later regret. Chapter 2 spoils the ending of the Hobbit! Don't read it unless you want to!
1. Chapter 1 A Useless Plea

The dialogue that is meant to be said in Khuzdul/ dwarvish is in italics. Hopefully that helps!

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**Chapter 1: A Useless Plea**

_Knock knock_.

The fire was crackling in the hearth of the study as he waited for a reply. It was not proper to barge into a room when adults were talking; especially not when said adults were the King of the Durin's Folk and the Chief Advisor. It mattered not if the door was slightly open. He had to present himself as properly as possible, after all, if he wanted to appeal to the King. True, they may be kin, but Gimli, son of Gloin, still remembered his place. He was not at all like the two rambunctious princes that cared not for ceremony and etiquette.

"Come in," came the stern voice of the king from within. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Carefully, but not too boldly, the dwarf lad entered the room.

He bowed deeply and began speaking in their ancient tongue of Khuzdul, "_Hail to the King and his noble line._" He then turned to the advisor, Lord Balin son of Fundin and nodded his head, "_Hail to you as well, Uncle_."

"Gimli?" spoke his uncle in the Common Speech with a rather puzzled smile on his face, "Is there something the matter, laddie?" It was rather odd for him to hear his nephew be so formal in both speech and manner. He decided to place the scrolls in his hand on the table and walked over to Gimli's side. He had a slight look of concern.

Thorin, however, though he also found this odd, was not at all fazed by the way the young dwarf was carrying himself. He knew full well why he was there. After years of raising two rascals himself, he could tell when a youngster was trying to brush up to him to get something their way.

"If you wish to speak your mind about something, then I suggest you get on with it," there was a slight hint of irritation in his voice as he responded in Common Speech. He was, after all, rather busy with the current matter at hand. Reclaiming one's homeland from a ruthless dragon was not something he would want to carry out with unplanned. He folded his hands beneath his chin and stared straight into Gimli's eyes. The look made a chill run down the youth's spine. He was the King Under the Mountain, after all, with or without the Raven Crown. "As you can see, I am not here for leisurely purposes."

"_Uzbaduh _(my Lord)," Gimli proceeded in Khuzdul, trying his best to collect himself, "_It has come to my ears that the Princes Fili and Kili, may Mahal shield them both, have been permitted to join the Reclamation Company_." He tried his best to use his best vocabulary. He needed to show Thorin Oakenshield how much he had grown. This greatly surprised and impressed Balin, to see his nephew be so eloquent. Even if he was a decade odd younger than the youngest prince, Gimli son of Gloin was far more gifted than the two princes could ever hope to be in the ways of their people.

Thorin smirked slightly as he leaned against his folded hands. "_And so you wish to be granted the same honor as my nephews?_"he asked effortlessly in Khuzdul. His accent was flawless and that of the kings of the Durin's Folk. "_Is this what you desire, Gimli, Gloin's son? To serve your people and your king, even if it is to cost you your life and everything you hold dear?_" The youth did not hesitate to nod. "_Even if you know quite well that the chances of survival are slim to none, your resolve still remains unchanging?_"

Gimli's eyes flashed with a determined fire as he stared straight into Thorin's eyes and nodded, "_Yes, Uzbaduh. I am forever at your service. And I will lay down my life willingly for the sake of our deliverance to our sacred homeland._"

Thorin smiled and chuckled under his breath as he shook his head in disbelief, "I expect no less from the breed of Gloin, my noble and most stubborn of kin. Indeed you would be valuable upon this dangerous mission. I can ask for no better." He stood up from his seat and walked over to Gimli, whose feet were firmly rooted.

Balin, however, was not at all pleased with this. His strife was openly shown upon his furrowed and darkened brow. "Out of the question!" he protested, warranting a rather shocked look from his nephew. "There is no way Gloin would allow it, nor I! Neither should you, Thorin!" The older dwarf was on very familiar terms with the king so he needn't use titles or honors whilst addressing him directly. The king raised a hand to silence his friend.

"Balin speaks reason. Have you already asked your father for permission?" Thorin lifted a brow, all the while not breaking eye contact with the young dwarf. "_What says he upon the matter? And do not try to lie to me for I am wise in the ways of rascals._" He heard Balin snort at the mention of the word. The two young princes were rascals indeed, and yet they were permitted to accompany him on this quest.

"Father refused," Gimli went back to speaking Common as he began losing hope. His uncle was not at all helping him appeal to the king. "But he did not give me a reason as to why. Though, I know that-"

"-that if I should allow it, then your father would have no choice to accept." Thorin responded for him. He sighed and offered the lad a sad smile. "My answer will have to be no and my reason is simply this: you are too young. There are far too many young lives at stake as is. I cannot allow yet another one to risk their life, for those whom I already have I worry about constantly. We will have many foes along the way and I would rather not make one more of your father. I am sorry, my lad, but I will not use you, valiant yet foolish Gimli." He placed a hand on Gimli's shoulder.

However, the young dwarf was not going to stand there and accept this. He stubbornly brushed away the king's hand and balled his fist at his side. "I am neither a child nor foolish! Not as foolish as Kili! I am more capable with an ax than he will ever be! You need but ask Dwalin, Lord Commander of the Guard! He will tell you my prowess in battle-!"

"That is enough!" roared Balin, "How dare you say such-!"

"All I ever wanted to do was serve you! To fight by the side of my king, of the legendary Thorin Oakenshield like my forefathers before me! Like valiant Prince Frerin by the shores of Mirrormere! I will fight by your side or die trying! Please!" he looked deep into the king's eyes in desperation, but Thorin remained still. He now wore his stone brow and glared down at Gimli. He took a deep breath and walked back to his seat behind the table but paused to have his back turned towards the young lad.

"My resolve does not so easily change with the turning of the tides. Go. I will hear no more of this," he gave a gesture of dismissal. Balin quietly ushered his nephew from the chambers, though not without struggle. Instead of being treated like a child, Gimli shrugged him off and marched out in anger, though not before giving a forced bow.

The door was bolted behind him. Balin sighed aloud and looked towards the king apologetically, "That boy's temper will be the unmaking of him. Let me apologize on his behalf." He bowed his head in shame. Thorin shook his head and relaxed his shoulders slightly.

"No need to apologize, old friend. He will learn someday," he then snorted, "I just hope that my own two idiots were half as eloquent as Gimli." He offered Balin a sad smile. "I have high hopes for him. One day, he will have his own chance to go on a life-changing quest. He may have been in the right after all. He may yet prove to be the greatest of warriors our clan has to offer. But for now, he must remain here. "

The king sat back down and stayed silent. He massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. Balin, however, still had a look of concern on his face. He knew that Gimli's last comment was not something that would go unnoticed. It was not just a matter of age that made Thorin refused. There was so much more that he did not want to put to words. The boy would never truly understand the pain his words have inflicted upon the king.

"Thorin-"started the old dwarf, but Thorin shook his head, as though knowing what he was about to say.

"I have had quite enough for tonight," he stood up and placed a firm hand on the other's shoulder, "Get some rest, Balin. Tomorrow is quickly approaching. " Balin had no choice but to oblige. He knew full well what was racing through Thorin's mind. Any further talk would but add salt to an open wound.

Gimli angrily marched through the halls of the Ered Luin to the training grounds near the front gate. He needed to clear his head from all of this disappointment and there was a straw dummy just waiting for him to hack its head off. His ax hand was just itching to be used. The last place he wanted to go back to was his own home, where he would no doubt get an earful from his father for trying to disobey him. Gloin was a proud dwarf and would not take lightly any slight done towards him, even if it was from his own son.

As he made his way towards the grounds, he caught a glimpse of two dwarves sneaking amongst the shadows, shushing each other as they giggled. Lo and behold, these were none other than the two princes themselves. Seeing their smug faces made his blood boil. They did not know how lucky they were. The two bickered over what looked like a carcass of a wild goose. Gimli was far from amused at how carefree they looked. They were on the eves of embarking upon the most important quest of their lives and here they were, mucking about.

"And where have you two been?" He hissed in a low voice. The two princes were rather surprised by this, but brushed it off like it was nothing once they noticed who the voice belonged to. Fili put a finger to his lips.

"Shush! Oi! Are you trying to get us caught, Gim?" They both made their way to him. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I asked you first! Where have you been?" Gimli frowned.

"We've just been hunting, is all. What's your deal?" Kili lifted a brow. "Why the long face, mate? Did a bird fly by and dump a hot one on your head?" The other prince snorted at this comment. Gimli's face did not change.

"Shouldn't you two be getting ready for tomorrow's journey instead hunting?" he scowled. Fili was rather confused with how sour his cousin looked. Kili's smile dropped slightly as he too noticed this.

"When did you become our mother? What's with the face? " the younger prince scoffed. The older hoisted the goose over his shoulder to free his hand.

"Something bothering you, Gim?"

"It's 'Gimli' and yes something is bothering me! You know better than to be sneaking off into the woods to hunt geese. Especially this late at night! If your uncle hears of this-"

"- Ah Mahal! Enough with the nagging! It's not like we get enough of that already from our Mum," cut off Kili.

"-yeah what's the deal anyway? You're never this fussy!" chimed in Fili.

"-ARGH! Don't you two have to get ready for tomorrow?!" Gimli wore his frustration on his face openly.

"Why? What's tomorrow?" Kili asked dumbly. Fili shot him a glance, allowing his brother to connect the dots. "Oh! Yeah! Right! Eh! We'll be fine!"

"'Be fine'? Don't you realize the importance of this quest?! To our people?!" he fumed. "How is it that you two could be so bloody relaxed about this?! It's not just an outing to Bree, you dolts! It's Erebor! Does that mean nothing to you!?"

"'Course it does! You don't think we're excited about it? Getting to see the Lone Peak? Walking in the halls of our fathers? C'mon! Who wouldn't be?" Kili snorted. Fili quickly shushed his brother.

"And the dragon? Hmm? What about him? Certainty of death? A fiery, agonizing death? You're telling me that the thought of that never crossed your minds?" Gimli was trying his best not to boil over.

"Why are you worrying about it so much anyway? It's not like you're coming with us!" the younger prince scoffed. The older, however, did not approve of this comment and immediately looked at their cousin apologetically.

"Gimli, he didn't-" he started, but it was not enough to simmer him down. His cousin's shoulders were now trembling as his balled his fists at his side. Fili stepped back slightly, not knowing would come.

Gimli suddenly found himself in fit of laughter. "I can't believe this! He'd choose you two imbeciles over me?!" The two princes looked at him in shock. "You're as dumb as they get! And he trusts YOU TWO to save his back? HAH!"

"Oi! Who are you calling imbeciles? You're our mate and all, but don't be calling us stupid, " Kili jutted his jaw and stepped forward towards Gimli. Fili had to hold him back with his free hand.

"Who else would it be but you? You don't even know how important this whole quest is! It's all just a game to you, isn't it? Then again, I would expect no less from a sprout with no beard! " Gimli turned his head and spat. It angered him to see how nonchalant these two were yet they were admitted into the company and he wasn't.

"Watch it!" Kili glared, he was trying to keep himself from seething. "Don't act like you know any better than us! You better watch what you say or else I'll-"

"- or else what? Shoot me with your arrows? At least I know how to use a proper fighting weapon while you hide behind your cowardly bow! You wouldn't last five minutes against my ax!" Gimli stared right into Kili's eyes and growled, "At least I stand a chance against the dragon!" Kili tried to lunge towards his cousin, but Fili stepped in between them.

"That's enough!" shouted the eldest prince. "What's your deal, Gimli?"

"What's my deal?! Hah! My deal is that you two dull-witted bastards get to go on this mission even though I'm clearly the better choice! But you get to go anyway just because you're his nephews! Goes to show how he thinks! Blood before brains! Hah! He'd sooner fail with you as his companions, based on what I've seen! He might as well just surrender to the dragon now! Being the fool he is!" Gimli scowled at Fili.

"Don't… you… DARE talk about my uncle like that!" hissed Kili as he pushed his way past his older brother with his fist cocked at the ready. "You know nothing about him!"

"Kili!" Fili shot him a glance. "You do that and you'll be taken off the mission for sure!" Kili looked back at his brother and struggled a bit. He was ready to defend their uncle's honor at whatever cost, but Fili would not allow it. "Besides, there's no use fighting with a runt."

"What did you call me?!" Gimli hissed.

"Yeah! You're right, Fee. Uncle wouldn't be happy to hear that I pummeled a wee dwarfling for being such a crybaby!" snorted Kili as he offered Gimli an extremely rude gesture and pushed him aside. They made their way back towards their halls, though not before looking back at Gimli over their shoulders one last time.

"_Imrid amrad ursul_ (Die a death by flame)!" Gimli cursed under his breath and spat in their direction.

The next morning, the company of thirteen set off on their quest; some were waving good bye to their families, others were looking back in remorse. They all knew full well that this mission could end horribly, but they were still determined to press on. Thorin remained stern and controlled while the rest were shouting farewells and making empty promises of gold and glory. The king held himself together as well as he could and offered curt smiles to those who gave him their blessings. But he knew deep down that they were all thinking that they might never see their king again. Princess Dis, Thorin's sister and Fili and Kili's mother, wore a similar stern face, but her eyes were glistening with fresh tears. The king offered her a humble nod, almost apologetically as he rode towards her.

"_Uzbaduh_ ( My Lord_). Remember your promise_," she spoke quietly in Khuzdul, her voice quivering slightly. The king reached over and cupped her face lovingly, offering her a smile.

"_We will meet again in the Halls of our Fathers_," his smile then became sad, "_if not then the Halls of Waiting_."

She took firm hold of his hand and kissed it, refusing to let go, "_I pray for the former, Nadadinhuh _(my brother)._ May Mahal shield you with his mighty hammer and give you the strength to watch over my sons._"

Gimli stood on the bridge, away from the farewell committee. Though he knew he would definitely get a proper scolding from his mother later on, he remained distant. He just could not get himself to see his father and friends leave without him. He could imagine their smug faces as they cantered off into the horizon on their ponies and his shoulders started trembling in anger again. He could see his father holding himself up proudly as he waved to the people flanking his path through the dwarf city. Gloin relished every moment of it. He wore his pride's weight in jewelry about him and the family's ax at his side. He felt like a celebrity amongst the Durin's Folk. Gimli scoffed at the sight.

Fili and Kili, though they were princes, had the decency of dressing for the adventure. Fili had his myriad of weapons, no doubt weighing down the poor beast he mounted. His face was beaming, but it was not as smug as Gimli had hoped. The same could be said for Kili. They had a sense of excitement, and yet it seemed as though reality had finally caught up with them and the severity of it all bore down upon them like some invisible load. They both passed their mother and offered her a sad smile.

"Don't worry, Mother. We'll be fine," said Fili quietly as he extended his hand out to her. The princess took firm hold and caressed it with her face. Tears ran down her cheek.

"Mother, we'll see each other again," said Kili, extending out his own hand, of which she held onto tightly. She kissed both their hands and did not want to let go. She then placed a stone token into her youngest son's palm and closed his fingers around it.

"Remember your promise," she reluctantly let go of their hands and withdrew back into the flanks. "Take care of each other."

Tears began glistening anew within the princes' eyes. Their smiles became sour as they rode on, nodding gave them a tearful smile and a blessing gesture. Kili brought the stone closer to him and held it tightly. He looked over to Fili, who was indeed very solemn, but did his best to carry himself as princely as possible. The younger had no choice but to pocket the stone and hold himself alike. They were no longer children. But as he held his head up, he caught a glimpse of Gimli on the nearby bridge. Kili had a frown upon his face, but it wasn't one of anger. It shocked Gimli quite a bit. A genuine smile then stretched across the prince's face.

"Good bye, my friend," it said to him. A twinge of pain pulled at Gimli's heart. His shoulders started to tremble fiercely as he held onto the walls of the bridge. Tears began streaming down his face as he saw Fili do that same towards him. He gritted his teeth and roughly wiped the droplets away.

"Quit your bloody grinning! Bring your pretty face to my ax! Next time I see you, I'll knock some sense into you, do you hear me!?" He shouted after them as he saw them ride under the bridge and passed him. They both gave him a passing wave as he could hear them laughing aloud. "Rue the day you mock Gimli, son of Gloin!" The company then went through the front gates, out into the wilds of Eriador and far to the east.

Deep down, his heart sank. He had hopes to see them again, but there was a fear that bothered him the whole night. It had been bothering him ever since he cursed them both. A death by dragon flame was not something to ever wish on a person, especially not of your best friends. He slowly made his way back to the training grounds beneath the mountain. The weight of it all then fell upon him as he slumped down on the edge of the ring. Everything then became so quiet and empty.

All the men in his family were gone. Both his friends were gone. The king he so loved and idolized was gone at the helm of the company. The bravest and boldest of them all; gone. Never had he ever felt so alone. The very dummy he wished to decapitate the night before seemed much less enticing now. What was the point? There was no one there to celebrate with him. Would he ever meet them again, he did not know. There was a grief that couldn't be spoken. There was a pain that went on and on. He looked about and the chairs and tables were empty. Now they were all gone.

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This piece is inspired by the song "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" from the musical Les Miserables. Kudos to you if you can find references to the song!


	2. Chapter 2 A Message from the Raven

The dialogue that is meant to be in Khuzdul/dwarvish is in italics. Cheers!

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**Chapter 2: A Message from the Raven**

**One year later…**

"The ravens! The ravens are here!" called out a sentry near the battlements of the subterranean dwarf city. "Tell the Lady at once!" Gimli's heart stopped at the sight. Indeed, there they were, soaring in the horizon, ravens from the east, from Erebor. His feet carried him along the ramparts and into the throne room, where Princess Dis, Lady Regent of the Durin's Folk, sat. She abruptly stood once she caught sight of Gimli.

"What is it? What news, Gimli?" she asked, her excitement was palpable.

"_Ravens, Azbaduh (my Lady)! From the east_!" he struggled to catch his breath as he dipped his head into a bow. Princess Dis stood from her seat and ran to his side, holding onto his arms firmly.

"Take me to them at once!" He bowed his head and led on. Once they both got there, the rest of the sentries bowed deeply.

"_Azbaduh! Joyous news! Erebor has been reclaimed! Their mission was a success! Praise Mahal!"_ Their faces beamed and tears filled their eyes. For so long, they have doubted Thorin Oakenshield and his foolish quest, but now, they sang praises of his name and cheered aloud. "_All hail our king! May his beard grow ever longer!_"

"And what of the company? What of my sons? Surely there's more!" Dis looked at the bird with desperation. It had been long since she used the raven tongue, but she still remembered enough to ask her sole question.

"I am only here to deliver the following: Erebor has been reclaimed. All of the Durin's Folk can finally come home and share the wealth of the mountain," squawked the raven in its harsh tongue.

"Then we must leave at once!" she looked around at her men, at Gimli. "Ready the caravans! We are coming home!" Tears of joy streamed her cheeks as she held onto Gimli tightly. She then said in a quiet voice, "My boys. My boys! I will see them again!"

Later that night, Gimli made his way around the halls of the Ered Luin for the last time before he himself embarked on the long journey back home. Home. Erebor was the homeland of his people. He should be delighted beyond all measure, but deep down, he felt sad. He looked up at the vaulted ceilings of the subterranean palace that his people had toiled to build since the years they settled here after the War.

He kept telling himself that it paled in comparison to the vast chambers of Erebor, but in truth, he really did not know what to expect. No, this was his home. These walls, these halls, this stone; they were what he had come to know as his home. But since the company left a year ago, his home seemed ever the darker and emptier. His heart sank as he feared that he would never see this place ever again. Was this the feeling Fili and Kili had when they had left so long ago?

"Fili and Kili," he remembered. Long had it been since he heard their ringing laughter echo throughout these halls. Even though they left on unhappy terms, the months have made his scorn melt away. In truth, he did not want to be left behind. He envied them, yes, but he also missed them dearly. After they left, he did not know what his place was. Was he the man of the house in his father's stead? Was he still a child? Fili and Kili were the closest people to brothers for him, being the only child of Gloin. Their absence bore heavily upon his heart.

He continued to walk through the halls, recalling different memories he shared with them. Here, they talked about the glories of restoring their Kingdom. A flame sparked within them as they sang aloud the odes to the Lonely Mountain. At that table in the corner, they spoke with such fervor and gusto about how they were going to slay the dragon and become the heroes of the Durin's Folk. Their names would be sung and praised, forever written in history as Dragonslayers. He could still hear their voices ringing, echoing in his mind. He too joined in on this. Many of the adults had laughed at them about it, but they did not care. But what could these nay-sayers laugh at now? True, he envied them for being able to realize their dreams, but he was also proud to know that they had indeed succeeded.

Along the long journey towards the Lonely Mountain, the dwarves caught rumor of an impending war that was about to break out. The forces of Men, Elves, Dwarves were against the foul Orcs and Goblins. Their travels had become exponentially more dangerous than they have thought, so they did their best to avoid the trouble as best as they could. The princess prayed every night for the well-being of her family and wanted to make haste, but her advisors said otherwise. If they were to go headlong into battle, they would most definitely perish. It tore at their hearts but they had no choice.

"We must turn back!" said one of the elders.

"We'll die for sure!" said another.

"But the Mountain is ours at long last!"

"Don't be a fool! Thorin was a fool to ever think he could do this!"

"We should have never come! Out of the frying pan and into the fire, says I!"

Dis, however, being the ruling regent in her brother's stead, still had them press on. They were too far along the path already to turn back now. "Where is your shame?! My brother, the King, has reclaimed our homeland with but a dozen men! A dozen! If he could take back the Mountain with just that, surely we would be more than capable of defending ourselves! We are the Durin's Folk! Durin spit upon your cowardice!" They all went silent and continued on their journey.

Gimli was ready for battle, ready to fight to the death if need be, but the council of advisors did not allow it. He was far too young, even if he was experienced in battle. He had to grit his teeth and bear with it as they slowly made their way towards Erebor. He wanted to run to his kinsmen, slay some orcs and defend their homeland but yet again he was denied. He was so close. Give him a swift mount and he would have been there, by their side.

Once they finally arrived, the carnage was horrifying. All of these tales and stories of a glorious death upon the battlefield were lies. Death and decay made the Desolation of Smaug reek. Bodies stacked upon each other, blackened with the blood of orcs and goblins. Their faces were so marred that they were indistinguishable. The weaker of the dwarves gasped and screamed at the sight. The braver of them casted down their hoods and bowed their heads in reverence.

All Gimli could think of was, "Please don't let my father be one of the many corpses. Please let my family be safe and sound." These very thoughts ran through everyone's minds, especially those whose family members had embarked on the journey a year ago. They trudged through the field of cadavers towards a distant encampment. There hang the banners of Men, Elves and the Iron Hill dwarves alike. Victory was theirs, but it hardly looked like it.

"Halt! Who dares come upon these lands?!" called out a sentry as the caravan approached. The princess had to summon all of her courage to speak with the man.

"We are the Dwarves of Erebor. We have come upon the summons of my brother, Thorin II Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, King Under the Mountain. I am Dis, Princess Regent of the Durin's Folk," her voice had long since been conditioned into that of a monarch since Thorin's company left a year ago. She now carried herself with all the authorities of her forefathers. There was a clamor amongst the guards of the camp as they whispered inaudibly. Dis dismounted her pony and walked towards the entrance. "I wish to speak with the King presently."

The guards' faces dropped and they casted the gazes low to the ground. "My Lady," finally spoke a dwarf from the Iron Hills, "Fate has brought you here upon such a solemn day." Her heart stopped but she did her best to press on.

"Speak! Why is such a day so solemn! Bring me to him at once!" she tried her best not to scream at him. The rest of the company of dwarves behind her all gasped in shock as they heard the news. He bowed his head and offered her a hand.

"Then I shall lead my Lady to the King at once, though I fear no one else must follow," the dwarf gestured towards the other guards. "Make sure these people are well taken care of. This is their home, after all." The rest obliged and led the caravan into the camp. Gimli still remained with Dis. He held onto her other hand firmly, comforting her. He could tell that her heart was about to break. What solemn news were they speaking of? Surely not the king! Surely not the company!

"As I have said, no one else must follow," stopped the dwarf sentry. He glared at Gimli, treating him like a child. "Or are you none too keen of hearing, dwarfling?" The younger glared back at him, but reluctantly obliged. His own mother pulled him away from the princess as they made their way through the camp.

He looked about at all the foreign faces, most of which of an entirely different race. Some were barely injured while others we carefully tended to by their peers. A myriad of unfamiliar faces encircled him as he walked on.

"Gimli!" said a very familiar voice from behind him. He turned and saw his father, partially clad in golden armor and stained with orc blood. His mother let out a joyous cry and burst into tears. Gloin raced towards his family and embraced them tightly. "My dear! My son! Oh blessed be the Maker!" They held their embrace for a long time as Gimli too found himself bursting into tears of joy. He looked over his father's shoulder and saw his three uncles beaming at him brightly.

They survived! They had all survived! They broke their embrace and were led to their tent. Dwalin had a nasty scar across the bridge of his already-broken nose, Balin had his arm in a sling, Oin his leg in a cast. Gloin supported himself on his ax like a crutch. The rest of the company was being tended to by the healers. Even Ori, the meek one, had a battle wound that begged a tale or two. Gimli was overjoyed to see that everyone was there and well. His mother would not let go of his father, crying her eyes out. His uncles laughed as they rustled his hair, saying how much they had missed him.

However, his joy was short lived as he looked about the tent. His uncles were all accounted for, but what of his friends? Where were Fili and Kili? He looked around in desperation and pricked his ears, but did not hear or see them. Maybe they were in the king's tent, he thought to himself.

"So Fili and Kili are with the King then?" he asked amongst the clamor. The whole tent went silent. Their momentary joy fell and the company avoided looking him in the eye. His eyes widened and his heart sank as he whispered, "No."

Then, a deafening scream rang throughout the encampment. It came from the King's tent. It was the princess's voice. She cried hysterically, "You promised me! You promised me!" She wailed and moaned and there were sounds of guards restraining her. Then there was a gasp as the cries stopped abruptly. They heard a bunch of voices order her to be carried away and looked after.

Gimli's eyes went back and forth amongst the company, searching for the answer—nay – for confirmation, but none dared to speak. "Aye. It is true, laddie," Balin's quivering voice finally broke the silence. "They are gone. They died defending their uncle." He placed a hand on his shoulders and tears streamed down his cheek, stinging his open wounds, "I am sorry."

A few days later, Thorin Oakenshield joined his nephews Fili and Kili. Strong as he was, his wounds were too great. But Gimli knew that the real wound that killed him was that of his broken heart. He could not do the very thing he promised his sister. Though he made amends with those who were still alive, he was never able to forgive himself for the deaths of his beloved nephews. They died because of him, because of how inadequate he was. In the end, they were the ones protecting him, with sword, shield and body. A grand funeral was held in service of the King and his princes. Even the elven king, Thranduil, paid his respects as he placed the Arkenstone and the elvish blade Orcrist upon Thorin's breast.

As they were entombed, Gimli casted his eyes down to the ground, the so-called sacred ground that they had lost their lives for, as tears streaked his face. Was this place what they had sacrificed their lives for? Beautiful, it might have been, but it meant nothing to him. He secretly hoped that they had stayed behind and lived out their days in the Ered Luin.

Sad as he was, he had no right to wail, not when the princess was gravely silent. The life in Dis's face was completely drained. She was but a shell of her former self. Two men had to support her from collapsing. The dwarves then began to sing a requiem, with deep, yet quavering voices, so full of woe and despair. Their beloved king and the young princes were gone.

After the mourners had left, Gimli stayed behind. Memories of his final words to them flooded back to him. He remembered the horrible things he said to them. He had called them fools. He had cursed them. He had wished them to die a most painful death. Now, he wanted so desperately to take back what he had said so long ago. He clenched his fist at his chest tightly as the pain ensnared his heart. The lump in his throat prevented him from uttering a sound before, but now with everyone gone, he wailed. His knees buckled and he fell upon them besides Fili and Kili's tombs. He placed his head upon the stone sarcophagus.

"Oh my friends, my dearest friends, forgive me," he managed to say between him choking on tears. He closed his eyes tightly and hoped that once he opened them, they would be standing there in front of him, calling him "Gim" again. He used to hate that name and often got angry at them about it, but what would he not give to hear their voices once more? To see them laughing merrily? He prayed to Mahal, over and over again, begging him to change their fate. But as he opened his eyes, the scene remained the same. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Was it his curses that killed them? Was that why he still lived and they were gone? He could no longer speak, for the grief was too much. The pain did not go away. Was it his fault? What was the use of asking for forgiveness now? Never would he ever see them again. They would never sing and make merry again. Their voices were forever lost in the darkness. Their beaming faces were now set in cold hard stone. The chairs and tables would forever be empty.

* * *

This piece was inspired the the song "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" from the musical Les Miserables. Kudos if you find the references!


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